


Coup De Foudre

by milkofthepoppop



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Medieval, Castles, Dom!Jon, F/M, Jon is Wiliam the Conqueror, Light Dom/sub, So basically, Spanking, Sub!Dany, and Dany is Matilda of Flanders, intimate partner violence(kinda?)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-23
Updated: 2019-08-23
Packaged: 2020-09-07 18:43:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20314225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/milkofthepoppop/pseuds/milkofthepoppop
Summary: "I haven't given you permission to leave."Even covered in mud, her demeanour is that of the queen she is yet to be. Fighting his grin, Jon answered cooly."With respect, my lady, I don't need your permission. I am the king."With that, he mounted his black destrier and trotted away without looking back.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Jon is William the Conqueror and Dany is Matilda of Flanders in this. So you can imagine some violence..

"..and a page boy came today morning, delivering this message, sire."

While today's council meeting was heading to its conclusion rather smoothly, this caught the young king's attention and to some extent, anxiety. 

"Is it from Dragonstone?" Jon inquired, trying to hide his agitation. Half in hope, half in dread, he waited for the answer.

"Yes, sire." Replied lord Glover, handing the scroll to him while gauging the rare expression from his normally unreadable king. Controlling his slightly trembling hand, Jon scanned the elegant and neatly written passage.

" 'I will not sully my line by marrying a bastard.' " As the king recited the material of the scroll, the members of the council grew angry. This could be the first major obstacle of the young king's reign. Not forgetting that fact, Jon could not take his eyes off the scroll.

"That is outrageous, my king! Such insolence!" The council roared. The king ignored them all, opting to read the scroll again and again as if he could not believe what he just read. Soon his knuckles turned white by the force he was using to hold the scroll. He crumbled it and threw it to the hearth to burn it. But the action could not burn his anger and frustration.

"You do not have to marry that haughty girl, sire. She is not the only one with noble blood flooding in her veins." Wyman Manderly piped up.

Jon examined the fat lord's remark thoughtfully. No doubt he was trying to make one of his own granddaughters their queen. After all, this was not his first attempt. It was not a bad idea. Rewarding the loyalty of his lords with the promise of queenship. However, their daughters were not _her_.

"She's the only one with the _royal_ blood, my lord." Jon spoke in a defeated tone, having this conversation for far too many times. How many times does he have to illustrate to his lords that it is _her_ he wants?

"A dynasty long forgotten. House Targaryen is gone, my king."

"Not all of them. Her brother recently passed away which made her the sole heiress for Targaryen lands and fortune. Surely that prevails any dowery mere noble lady can offer." To that, none could argue against their king. Even after losing the throne, house Targaryen remained one of the richest, which prompted Jon to act fast. If he waited any longer, she would any other's queen or duchess.

"I want her bloodline. I want her lands and titles. I will have her as my queen, no matter what." The king vowed solemnly, ignoring the council's disagreements. Soon they fell in line, bowing their heads in obedience accepting their king's final decision. After all, Targaryen name meant something regardless of their hold on the throne.

"I will ride to Dragonstone myself. Ready the horse." Jon added. Once again the council chamber erupted with grumblings of the dissenting lords and Jon waited for them to abate. 

"I will be back with my bride. You, my lords, have a wedding to prepare." With that, Jon embarked on his journey without his squires or even his faithful wolf. 

* * *

_Few moons ago _

This is the first time he accepted the invitation of the lions. Looking at the splendor the Lannisters surround themselves, Jon idly wondered if lord Tywin really did shit gold when he lived. Among luminous beings, there was the most captivating sight. 

Candlelight reflected in molten silver blinded him momentarily. Jon has never seen such beauty. In his lifetime as a bastard who grew up in a castle, he had known a fair share of pretty ladies. His father's lawful wife who always had disdain for him in her eyes, his brother's wife and his half-sisters who were all lost to wars, and the hostess of the very feast he and the nameless beauty was attending, Cersei Lannister.

However, as the beauty raised her head, Jon could not help but notice that this nymph has none of the disdain of lady Catelyn or viciousness of the lioness. The silver lady was conversing with King Jaime with a graceful demeanor even though her petite form made her crane her neck. Her silver hair and telltale violet eyes not only confirmed her identity, but also her otherworldliness. Suddenly the grandeur and brightness of lions' court seemed to diminish in color. 

A Targaryen princess, if you could call a crownless one as such, rejected Jon's first impression of languidness and powerlessness that belonged to the nymph he dubbed her. No, there was a fire in her violet eyes. And it captivated him as light does to a moth. He gladly followed her unvoiced order, flocking to her. Noticing his approach, King Jaime went back to his sister like a well-trained dog and left space for Jon to fill. He grabbed the opportunity eagerly and gestured for her hand to kiss as courtesy commands. 

"I don't think I had a pleasure to meet you in person. lady Targaryen." Wondering what title is the appropriate one for her, he landed with the most versatile one, hoping it would not wound her pride. Apparently, she did not mind as she courtesied politely.

"A pleasure is hard to find in lion's den, my lord." Or she did mind, as she refused to call him a king he is. Jon opted not to comment on that. 

"Then why are you here? Forgive me for asking, but it is hard to fathom why you would be in the presence of the kingslayer when you are the daughter of the said king."

"I can say the same thing about you, lord Stark. Didn't his army kill your sire too? We both lost our fathers to the Lannisters."

"The men who started the wars are now long gone, including my brother and Tywin Lannister. I do not want to lose more men in a meaningless war. If the Kingslayer wants to sue for peace, I have no reason to refuse."

"You care about the lives of those who serve you enough to put them above your pride. That's rare for a king."

"So you know I am a king."

"It is hard not to when one's brother set his eyes on making his sister a queen."

That explained the Targaryens' presence in Lannister court. Viserys wanted his sister to marry either the kingslayer or Jon himself. He couldn't decide the thought amused him or not.

"Your brother is willing enough to marry his only sister to the man who killed his father?"

"More willing than marrying me off to a bastard king." Such an ugly word to come out of those fair lips. He imagined those lips should be employed in more fitting matters like smiling and kissing. Yes, her lips were sculpted to be kissed, he decided. While his head was full of flights of fancy instead of indignation he should have felt, she was intently observing his expression to examine whether her deliberate choice of word provoked him or not. It did provoke him, but not in the way she expected.

"And are you willing enough?" At his question, she huffed a small, surprised laugh. 

"You are the first person to ever ask me of that." Jon felt a sudden giddiness at her admission. He wanted to be her first in many other ways.

When he opened his mouth to further their conversation, she courtesied again, this time to bid farewell and went her way to her brother. He had no choice but to admire her retreating back. He vowed to himself this will not be the last time they'd talk.

The last days of the feast flowed uneventfully. The kings signed the peace treaty and shook each other's hand. Joust followed, which Jaime himself participated. When he won, he surprised every noble by crowning his sister instead of many marriageable ladies namely princess Daenerys. It must mean the negotiation between the kingslayer and Viserys did not go well, Jon mused. He wondered if Jaime's almost offensive rejection would change Viserys' mind about his bastardy.

He only had a few chances to exchange words with the princess and her constant worrying about being interrupted by her brother dampened his courting. In moments like that, Jon envied his brother. Robb would have known how to win an icy princess. Robb would have been able to talk about anything and everything with a lady without resorting to discussing his siblings or his pet wolf to maintain the conversation. Although she genuinely seemed to be interested in his stories, no matter how banal his tales sounded. However, he did make some progress, as she permitted him to call her Dany when she felt generous. 

Thinking of Robb made him carefully inspect his feelings for Daenerys. Robb's choice of his queen and subsequent fallout taught him enough about how dangerous it would be if a king chose his consort based only on his whims. However, Daenerys is not a mere nurse; she is one of the richest women on the continent. Jon is not repeating his brother's mistake. These thoughts made Jon little more comfortable in shamelessly desiring her. 

After the joust, yet another feast followed. Jon grimaced a little when the bards sang another round of rains of Catasmere. As if sharing his tiresome, the princess excused herself only with one lady-in-waiting. Jon quietly followed her, noting that Viserys was too busy fondling serving wench to see him. When she realized there were only three of them in the vast hallway, the princess gestured to her lady to stay put and went to Jon who was waiting in front of one of the alcoves.

It was very rare to have her this near and without interruption, if he can ignore chaperoning maidservant's presence, so he tried to make the best out of it. His kiss to her hand lingered a little longer; his hands were in contact of her elbow or other seemingly innocent body parts the entire time.

"Why did you not compete, my lord? I would have given you my favor for you to wear."

"I wanted to crown you properly. A flower crown wouldn't do justice for you." He imagined her wearing the crown of his kingdom, a twin of his very own Winter King's crown. 

If she was shocked by his bold statement, she did not show it. She replied almost mockingly.

"You assume too much."

"I am merely having a clear-headed view of the situation. There are only two kings in this continent and one of them clearly does not want you."

"And you want me?" Her voice was so low and hoarse that only he could hear, he was sure of it. In that alcove, Jon forgot everything but her. Her lady-in-waiting, her stubborn brother, the Lannisters...they all faded to nothing, leaving only her in his arm's reach.

"Without shame." With that, Jon sealed his mouth with hers, half expecting her maid or the princess herself to stop him. However, the interruption never came and Jon lost himself in the sweetness of her lips. His restraint was at wars with his appreciation of how pliable and responsive she is.

When they were trying to catch their breath, her maidservant cleared her throat, indicating there are people coming out of the great hall. The feast was over and that meant his time her came to its end too.

"When will I see you again?" He asked after putting a respectable distance between them. She still looked stunned. 

"My brother will take me back to our estate in Dragonstone, considering there is no reason for us to be here anymore." She spoke with downcast eyes.

"You are always welcome at the Winterfell." His statement was sincere. Whatever her intended reply was, he could not hear it because of the sudden appearance of her brother. With a barely passable nod to a king, the disgraced prince snatched his sister in front of Jon, taking her away from him.

The next day when he inquired about Targaryen sibling's whereabouts, his host provided that they went back to their home.

* * *

Dragonstone was similar to the North in some ways. It's harsh wind certainly pointed to that. Jon was aware of how hard the wind was hitting his face but he could not care less. He had to get to her and listen to what she has to say. Apology, admitting her love for him, anything. 

The drawbridge was lowered and soon the princess and her entourage came across it. Daenerys was not seated in a carriage which would be the norm for a lady of her station. Jon remembered her saying about how she was fond of riding instead of the dullness of a carriage. 

She was a sight for sore eyes, even in her monotonous garb which indicated she was still in mourning for her brother. Her silver hair was tightly braided and her sparkling eyes were yet to meet his.

He urged his horse to her, surprising her ladies-in-waiting and a few page boys. None of them bear weapons. They were on their way to church, he assumed. He would make sure she will be properly guarded regardless of time and space when she comes with him.

"My lady," he said as he dismounted.

"Did my handwriting fail you my lord?" Her haughtiness was veiling something, he was sure.

"No, it did not."

"Then you must have wasted your time, my lord as I fail to see how can I supply a different answer."

"I don't want a different answer. I want the true answer coming from your own lips."

"I don't see how it will be truer than the one from my own hand-"

"You will say your true answer in this instant, my lady." At his order, she mumbled 'very well' under her breath.

"I will not sully my line by marrying a bastard." Her voice was calm, too calm for his taste. Her expression did not betray her either as it was tranquil as ever. She spoke it as if it is the most universal and mundane truth, while not breaking their gaze.

Jon felt something inside of him crumble.

_You can't be Lord of Winterfell, you're bastard-born. My lady mother says you can't ever be the Lord of Winterfell._

Robb's voice from all those years ago came back to haunt him. With all the names he knew his enemies called him behind his back. Jon the Bastard. Jon the Conqueror. Jon the Usurper.

If they wanted a bastard, he would show them how a bastard would react. Even bastards have pride and honor, his bastard's sort of honor which was crushing beneath her dainty feet right now.

With only his fury, he approached her, ignoring shouts of her ladies and grabbed her thigh, enjoying the heat radiated from her.

"Marry me, and I will make you a bloody queen you begged to be." He whispered against her ear.

"You mistake me, my lord. I never beg," She responded, unfazed by his threatening proximity.

"Especially to a bastard." She cruelly added, with a hint of a smirk which made him snap.

Without saying anything, he grabbed her braid which was resting in the small of her back and encircled her waist with his other arm, throwing her down. Soon she was hitting the ground with a shriek, landing in the middle of a puddle of mud. She was holding his jerkin tightly as if it was a lifeline. Their eyes were glued to each others' the entire time. Her violet orbs held the fiery glint he'd recognize everywhere. It made his groins stir faintly and he hated himself.

Her ladies dashed toward her while page boys tried to tame her startled horse with a gobsmacked face. 

"Y-you must apologize to her highness!" One of her ladies spoke, putting a brave face in spite of her trembling voice. He recalled her face from the Lannister court. He ignored her, just like half a year ago.

His eyes were fixed on the face of the princess. Her maddening, mesmerizing face. Neither uttered a word. Their eyes were battling and mapping each other while their hitched breath calmed down. Accepting his defeat, he asked for the final time.

"Is it your true answer?"

"The only truth that matters now is that you came here and insulted me thus."

With an incredulous laugh, he muttered.

"You speak of insult?"

"As I have every right to. Listen to my maid and apologize to me this instant. You are in my land, threatening my people and insulting my honor." She was good at commanding, he noticed.

"I rather not. You, in mud, is quite fetching sight." He quipped, wanting nothing more to see her as indignant as him. However, she remained calm and it made him even madder. Realizing he would be doing something he'd greatly regret if he remained with her anymore, he went back to his horse and held its rein. Hundred thoughts fleeting in his mind. Abduction, another war, her unhappiness...Soon his reverie came to a halt as she opened her pouty lips.

"I haven't given you permission to leave."

Even covered in mud, her demeanor is that of the queen she is yet to be. Fighting his grin, Jon answered cooly.

"With respect, my lady, I don't need your permission. I am the king."

With that, he mounted his black destrier and trotted away without looking back.

* * *

Getting in the first inn he got his eyes on, he paid the innkeeper handsomely for a hearty meal and for keeping his horse. The inn's lively mood filled with songs of minstrels was at odds with his gloomy sentiment. He quickly finished his meal and tried a cup of ale. However, he soon reminded that drinking the sorrow down was never his style. Not bothering a second cup, he asked a serving wench to prepare him a bath in his room.

After he finished his bath, which failed to cleanse his sense of defeat, he grabbed his clothes to put them back. While doing so, he noticed a crispy rustle of a paper scratching. He discovered it was a note inside of the jerkin's pocket. Confused, he opened it and scanned its contents. With distinctive handwriting that he could recognize no matter what it wrote a simple order.

_Come to the west gate servants use and knock thrice then twice_.

Is it another way of tricking him? He asked himself. No answer came out except to begrudgingly follow the order to find out what was going on.

The castle was asleep. The dim moonlight which obscured everything and the absence of his magnificent destrier immensely helped him to pretend to be a servant with ease. After he knocked as instructed, her faithful maidservant from the earlier came out with a torch and beckoned him to come close. As he followed her, Jon soon came across the inner sanctums of the castle. It was eerily quiet as if there are far more ghosts than the living occupying this castle.

Soon he was led to what he would call a master bedroom and the lady with a torch bowed and disappeared. Unsure himself, he knocked at door regardless. It opened and showed the princess in her shift. Freshly out of the bath just like him, there was no hint of mud on her face. Only calmness. He wanted to break her mask.

"What is the meaning of this?" He whispered although all he wanted was to shout. Without providing an answer, she held his hand and lead him to her chamber. The clicking of the door sealed their togetherness. 

"I needed you here, as soon as possible. I knew you would come without delay if I rejected you, citing your bastardy." He did not expect that.

"Say that again." She looked at him and asked with her eyes.

"That you need me." He elaborated.

"I need you." Her voice was small but sure. 

"Again."

"I need you."

He held her face between his hands adoringly and kissed her without fear, without any doubt she wanted less. Soon their need to breath made them stop and look at each other's eyes instead.

"I was held prisoner here, by my legal guardian lord Mopatis. I was his ward after my brother's passing. He was plotting to marry me off to one of the horse lords so he made me decline your offer of marriage."

Her explanation made him feel the turmoil of conflicting emotions. Pity and understanding for her, fury for the lord Mopastis, and gladness he came here soon enough. 

"Do you understand why I had to do what I did? Why I had to call you such a vile title." Her eyes were beseeching when there was no need for it.

"You can call me the devil himself for all I care." He answered half-heartedly. Dear Lord, what a beguiling woman she is! What a clever little thing! He resumed his kiss, roughly disrobing her. He could not get enough of her. He palmed her exposed breasts, enjoying the firmness and smoothness of twin orbs. Soon his need for air emerged but he just couldn't stop kissing her. As he pushed her backward, their legs met the foot of her canopied bed. 

He tugged his clothes and they both became completely bare for each other. Candlelight gave her porcelain skin a golden hue. He licked at her throat then everywhere he can put his mouth on like a wolf would. At his ministration, her pouty lips gave the most stirring mewling sounds. He wondered what other sounds she can make. Wanting to find out, he slipped the pink tip of her bosom in his mouth. Giving it a quick suck, he rewarded her admonished moan with a gentle caress of his wet tongue. He gave the other breast the same treatment and soon her nipples darkened in flaming red color, matching her flushed cheeks. 

His mouth went south, peppering kisses along the way. When his mouth reaches her navel, she gasped the most delightful sound for his ears. Wanting more, he quickly grabbed her creamy thighs, intending to spread them. At his sudden movement, the startled princess tried to push him away, her palms roughly hitting the muscle of his shoulder.

Undeterred, he swept her nether lips with one stroke of his masterful tongue, enjoying her unique sweetness. He slithered his tongue inside of her tight, wet heat in a serpentine way, his hands holding her thighs so firmly that his handprints would be visible. Her moans were now near screaming and it only became bigger when his thumb viciously attacked the sensitive nub apex of her seam. At that, she kicked his shoulder, dislodging him from her lower half. She heaved like a small animal which was hunted down and whimpered like one too.

He grabbed her dainty foot which just kicked him and pressed a kiss on her ankle.

"Striking your King is a grievous crime." His voice was low and severe even though his twinkling eyes betrayed him. Now she regained her normal breathing and was able to see him in the eyes.

"And what do you propose to remedy that?" Her voice was teasing but he could detect uncertainty and nervousness.

"It will be punished like any other crime should be." With that, he pulled her over his torso, switching their position as she was all over him. He sloppily kissed her again while kneading and gripping her plump bottom. As he sat up, he sighed into her mouth and looked into her eyes intently.

"Lie across my lap."

She did not follow him instantly. All she did was looking at him with her innocent doe eyes. Feeling impatient, he barked his order again.

"_Now_, Dany."

Maybe it was of his use of her nickname only a few were privileged enough to utter that made her follow his order without hesitation. Whatever it was, her eyes had that glint again like she did when he threw her in the mud. 

She peeked at him over her shoulder while he gently kneaded her bottom. Without warning, his blows landed in repeated succession, tinging her rear in delicious red.

Amidst slapping sounds and her ceaseless whimpers, he bellowed his promise to her and himself.

"I want your heart. I want your wit and wisdom. I will have you as my queen, no matter what." 

Blow after blow, he could feel sweet nectar seeping out of her seam just like duplet of his seed leaked from his hard cock. He had to have her soon.

Stopping his vicious attacks momentarily, he urged her to answer.

"Say yes, Dany. Accept your punishment."

As if to soothe her, he tenderly patted her swollen buttocks while his other hand was paying homage to her mane of moon kissed hair.

"Say yes." He whispered this time, not once stopping his gentle ministration.

"_Yes_." With unshed tears, her answer came both from her mouth and amethyst eyes incapable of lying.

Gaining enough confidence, he spun her again and soon she was lying aback as he spread her legs. Her cunt was soaking wet when he inserted a finger then another effortlessly. Her pitiful cries were music to his ears as he continued to prepare her. Searing her inner walls with scissoring movement of his fingers, he loosened her tight heat for his meaty cock, all the while lapping up any juices that came from her core. His thumb was rubbing and grazing her sensitive nub, earning her frenzied moans. Soon he felt her inner walls clench around his inserted fingers.

Deeming she was ready for him, he positioned his bulbous head against her opening after wetting it sufficiently with her slick folds. With an uncharacteristically sweet kiss, he thrust to the hilt inside her tight heat. her shriek pierced tranquility of her chamber, arousing him further. Her face was flushed and there was a stream of tear coming out of her eyes. Waiting for her to be accustomed to his size, he licked her tears away. Her snug inner walls were enveloping his manhood in the best of ways which made him fear he'd finish then and there. 

Burying his head on her shoulder, he grunted his pleasure, willing himself not to be a savage. If he met her violet eyes now, he would thrust violently then spill his seed and this heavenly feeling will come to a halt. No, he had to prolong this. He cradled her face adoringly and pecked chaste kisses all above her angelic face. Luckily she was shutting her eyes the whole time, her brow furrowed. As his caress continued, the crease between her brows disappeared and she became more comfortable with having his entire length in her untested womanhood. 

After a few seconds, which felt like hours to Jon, she brought her hands to his shoulder and urged him to move. Gently, he dove into her soft walls, kneading her bottom with each hand. Soon the chamber was filled with the lurid sound of skin slapping and their euphoric moans and grunts. Her cunt was seizing his length as she grabbed his shoulder and arm like her life was depending on it. Jon has never felt greater want than to claim her as his. Putting his forehead against hers, he closed his eyes and listened to her uneven breathing.

"You are my queen, Dany. Now and always." He vowed as he picked up the pace a little. Her legs enveloped his back, almost locking him in. Unable to proceed gently, he roughly grabbed her buttocks, his teeth brutally grazing against her neck and clavicle. Only unintelligible whimpers poured out of her kiss-swole lips. He needed to hear her proclaiming him her king. He needed her words, her approval, and her love.

"Tell me I'm your king, Dany. Say it." At his beseeching, she finally opened her eyes and hold his gaze. Instead of saying as he bid, she closed the distance between their faces and pressed her lips against his. He denied her tongue seeking entrance and grabbed her chin rather roughly, making her lock gaze with him. 

"Say it." He all but begged.

"My king." She finally whispered, and it made him shiver. Even though it was her claiming him as her monarch, Jon felt he was the supplicant. And maybe that wasn't far from the truth as he can't help but worship her. He showered her with tender kisses and delicate brush of his hands. He kept whispering filthy sweet nothings at her ears about her sweetness and tautness. As his thrust became more abrupt and erratic, he pushed more of his weight against her, not wanting to be separated from her even for a mere second. Every part of his body was covering hers, his flesh and muscle blanketing her soft, yielding body. His left hand found its way back to her bottom again and slapped her reddened rear sporadically while the other hand came between their bodies, brushing against her sensitive pearl of pleasure. At his mere touch, she began trembling.

"Touch here, as I did earlier." He ordered as he grabbed her wobbly hand and led it where his hand used to be. He could feel his end was nearing and he would make sure that she climaxed with him. As she brushed her fingers against her quivering quim and its nub, she became more slippery much to delight Jon who was smacking her arse cheek repeatedly, feeding the fire in her eyes. It seemed Dany reveled in rough handling as much as tender caress she deserved, Jon noted.

"Jon, pleas-" She could not finish her words as his slapping and thrusting pushed her over the edge as well as her own touch. It was the first time she referred him in such an intimate way and it gave him the same pleasure as her inner walls clamping his thick cock inside her, He felt his own climax approaching. He rutted against her, his blunt tip scratching her sensitive insides as his manhood swole and began twitching. He succumbed to blinding pleasure her body gave him and pushed himelf inside of her a few more times until his crest captured and shook his entire body. Waves of pleasure enfolded him. Endless. Erupting. After roaring his animalistic grunt, his essence filled her womb, his creamy whiteness covering her pink petals.

Her cunt still clenched around his spurting cock riding the aftershock, milking every last drop from him. His body slumped against hers, their sweaty bodies folding together. He shuddered and groaned, his mind blank with pleasure he had never felt before. Soon he remembered his uncomfortable weight on her and lay on next her, his softening cock slipping away from her with a squelch. He intently watched her face reflecting her euphoria, feeling a bit of pride at what he accomplished. This felt greater than any other conquest. His sweetest victory.

Soon his eyes lowered to her body, noting red marks he left on her otherwise unblemished body. As he watched his seed leaking out of her cunt, the sight stirred something very primal inside his mind. Her red flower bloomed only for him was covered with his essence and a faint hint of her blood. His hand was there in instant, intently pushing his seed back to her still-sensitive cunt before it could dare escape. After pressing it all back, he removed his hand and draw meaningless patterns on her breasts, sometimes grabbing her mound with his sticky hand.

"We will marry as soon as possible. I've already arranged it." He spoke hoarsely. She was still trying to catch her breath. He held her much smaller hand in his and brought them over her abdomen and caress the smooth skin there.

"Even now you could be carrying my heir. I vowed myself not to sire a bastard." He sighed, inhaling her citrusy fragrance in content. 

"Do you desire it, the child?"

"More than you would know." He answered truthfully. She smiled, a genuine smile as she gazed their intertwined hands. 

"I desire it too. I want to see our child playing with Ghost." At the mention of his faithful wolf, he grinned and pressed a kiss on her forehead, promising himself that his queen will have anything she desires brought to her. She will want for nothing. They soundly began to fall sleep in each other's embrace.

Tonight, he claimed the princess. Tomorrow, he will crown the queen.


	2. Asking

Do you guys think this fic needs a sequel? I'm curious

**Author's Note:**

> so i'm thinking of writing some one-shots along with my multi-chapter fic Empress of love and beauty. I have in mind 1.Priest!Jon au, 2.Little red riding hood au, 3. Anne of green gables au. 4.crazy rich valyrians (this would be most likely muti chapter tho.) What should i write first? comment freely! and thx for reading.


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